There was silence. It wasn’t the comfortable, tranquil sort of silence that eases the mind and dips the body into relaxation- it was, rather, the demanding and unnerving quiet that spoke of a tragic and violent past that none wanted to think nor speak of. Ancient whispers of a city that once was could only be heard in the howling of the wind, bringing with it whirls of desert sand that buffeted against hollow buildings. Tattered remnants of flags and bannisters whipped about in the vicious wind, straining against their bindings with each gust. Sand had long since wreaked havoc on the vibrant paints that once decorated the buildings of the city: only chipped remnants and flecks of color could speak of the vivacious life that must have once occupied this place. Shattered shards that clung to the frames of broken windows reflected the high sun, glinting dangerously as they refracted rays about them. Large dunes were already beginning to engulf the city, shorter buildings falling victim to the sandy mountains. Taller structures (apartments? Offices? Were suited men and women bustling through these industrial halls or were families chattering in late afternoons?) stood with a certain air of tortured pride above the swirling sea of sand, cracked concrete and rusted steel fighting like a ship mast against the devastating waves of sand that came with the wind. From the top of one of the larger buildings came a sudden, jolting crash that ricocheted and echoed with a splitting violence across battered stone and bent steel. The wind had dislodged a rather precarious metal beam from a roof, and it clattered down to bury itself in the sand. The metallic ring reverberated for seconds, until the sound was muffled and hen finally absorbed by the engulfing sand. Then there was silence.